


Bubble, Pop, Electric

by Captain_Loki



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is hopelessly smitten, Exhibitionism, Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: Aziraphale is nude, which isn’t something that Crowley is unfamiliar with. They’ve known each other for 6,000 years, it was bound to happen. But he’s never seen Aziraphale in quite this context. This context being where he’s spread out against his bed, lips pink and parted, his eyes closed and lashes fluttering, his soft blonde curls sticking to his damp forehead, sweat gathering at his temples.





	Bubble, Pop, Electric

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley accidentally stumbles upon Aziraphale masturbating and shockingly it ends in sex! Actually it ends in two beings in love with each other but that's gross.

Once they were free to do as they pleased, Crowley and Aziraphale found what pleased them the most was simply being in each other’s company. It’s because of this that Crowley justifies breaking into the bookshop one afternoon. He finds lately, when left unattended for too long he’s prone to boredom, and there was only so much sleeping a demon could do. Bored Crowley is a mischievous one. It’s in everyone’s best interests after he hasn’t heard from Aziraphale in almost 22 hours.

The shop is quiet and dark and the closed sign on the door catches his eye far more than he thinks it should. The door opens for him, however, so he ignores it. Crowley figures Aziraphale is engrossed in some dusty old tome he’ll put downstairs and never sell.

Crowley’s not sure if he wishes he had announced his presence, perhaps made a racket below, or if he’s grateful he moved with a quiet grace befitting a serpent. Crowley peers into the open door to the spacious, but cozy, bedroom. There he finds Aziraphale indulging in an entirely different sort of temptation.

There’s a moment when Crowley’s unable to register anything more beyond the graceful spread of Aziraphale’s wings on the bed behind him. When his reptilian eyes are finally able to register the entire scene Crowley goes hot all over. Hot in a way that makes him think of Falling, veins like lava burning him up from the inside out. 

Except, this is very different. This, Crowley thinks, is what _ascending _must be like. An angel, _his _angel, laying naked atop a white and gold duvet with his back against a lush mound of pillows pleasuring himself.

Aziraphale is nude, which isn’t something that Crowley is unfamiliar with. They’ve known each other for 6,000 years, it was bound to happen. But he’s never seen Aziraphale in quite this context. This context being where he’s spread out against his bed, lips pink and parted, his eyes closed and lashes fluttering, his soft blonde curls sticking to his damp forehead, sweat gathering at his temples.

He looks resplendent. But Crowley’s attention is drawn back to Aziraphale’s hand wrapped around his cock, which is stiff and wet, the tip a violent sort of color that suggest he’s been at this for some time. 

The thought makes Crowley’s mouth go dry. He definitely should leave and pretend he was never here, but he doesn’t.

He and Aziraphale have talked about the _carnal _pleasures on very few occasions. On one, Aziraphale drunkenly regales him with tales of his conquests, though that’s not quite how he put it. The list is short, but Crowley thinks Aziraphale a quality not quantity type of person. 

Crowley has no conquests of his own to share, as such, so he doesn’t. He _is _responsible for pornography, or well, rather the _popularity _and overall _accessibility _of it. He _has _certainly indulged in his own pleasure (once for 24 hours straight and was proud enough he almost told Aziraphale. But he couldn’t).

It’s not as though Crowley is necessarily opposed to the idea of actually being with another person he just hasn’t been properly...tempted.

Here, now though, he seems to be making up for it. He’s hard. Every rustle of denim over his skin makes his extremities tingle and his cock thicken more. He wishes he put on pants beneath his jeans.

Crowley’s heart starts beating a little faster as Aziraphale’s hand does the same. Crowley takes a step back, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from where Aziraphale’s fist is moving over his cock.

He’s going to leave, he’s a demon but he has some common courtesy. Except, Aziraphale moves a hand to cup his testicles, fondles the swollen sack, fuzzy with soft blonde hair, his nails neat and manicured. Then the hand still pulling on himself, twists and Aziraphale says, “Would you like to join me, or do you just want to watch?”

Aziraphale’s hands still and Crowley tears his gaze away to meet Aziraphale’s, he’s glad he still has his sunglasses on, it’s easier to play it cool. From the smirk on Aziraphale’s face he doesn’t think its working. Crowley moves into the room.

“I’m—“Crowley pauses—“a demon!” He decides.

“Quite,” Aziraphale agrees.

“You weren’t answering your phone, I was terribly worried for your safety. Heaven could have come for you,” Crowley says.

“Of course.” Aziraphale’s hands start moving once more, and Crowley sits on the edge of the bed beside him. Crowley almost laughs at the irony when he faulters with uncertainty, _you go too fast for me, Crowley _ringing in his head. He wonders if maybe _this _is too fast.

Were Crowley with _anyone _else he’d be in the driver’s seat, for sure, no doubt (whether they knew it or not). But here he lets his hand hover over Aziraphale’s round thigh until Aziraphale places a gentle hand over Crowley’s and lowers it, Crowley grips just tight enough to feel the heat of it, how soft Aziraphale’s skin is. 

It doesn’t really go unnoticed to him that Aziraphale is in control, and he wonders if Aziraphale knows it or if he thinks Crowley is relinquishing it. Crowley doesn’t ask, just climbs onto the bed and runs a hand up Aziraphale’s thigh until he’s able to stroke the thick vein on the underside Aziraphale’s cock, ghosting over Aziraphale’s own hand still wrapped around himself.

Aziraphale lets go and Crowley takes over. Aziraphale makes a delicious sort of noise when Crowley’s fist tightens, and he strokes up once and back down. “I confess, I don’t think I will last very long, dear, I’m quite…Worked up,” Aziraphale huffs as Crowley swings his legs over Aziraphale’s thighs and straddles him.

As warned, Crowley only has time to slide his other hand beneath the one sliding over the smooth slick skin of Aziraphale’s impossibly hard cock before Aziraphale groans, his mouth parting as his eyes slip closed. Crowley works him through his orgasm, Aziraphale’s hips bucking up into the hollow of his hands as he comes in hot strips against his own stomach and chest.

“_Aziraphale_,” Crowley’s voice is a low and heated rasp but there’s an awe there, a predatory sort of lust as he takes in Aziraphale. His skin is sweat slicked and come covered, he’s flushed red, the picture of debauchery juxtaposed against his wings, practically glowing.

“That was rather incredible, love,” Aziraphale tells him, with this besotted look on his face that has Crowley’s face heating with something more than lust. “Would you like me to return the favor?” His smile is coy where he looks up at Crowley wings twitching on the bed beside him.

Crowley responds by snapping his fingers, his clothes disappearing leaving him naked astride Aziraphale’s lap, unabashedly hard and dripping against Aziraphale’s thigh. “Is that a yes, then?” Aziraphale teases.

“_Yesss,_ angel,” Crowley confirms as Aziraphale’s hand, miraculously slick, closes around his cock.

“_Fuck_,” Crowley’s hips stutter up into the tight clutch of Aziraphale’s fist as he falls forward, arms coming up to grip at Aziraphale’s shoulders. Crowley’s hand is still covered in Aziraphale’s release and it smears across Aziraphale’s chest. Crowley bends forward to lick a strip of it from Aziraphale’s collarbone before sinking his teeth into the flesh there. Aziraphale lets out a moan of surprise, and Crowley can feel his cock starting to harden against his stomach.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice is soft and questioning and Crowley barely has time to wonder at it before one of Aziraphale’s hands is sliding beneath him, the blunt tip of his finger catching on the rim of his hole.

“Yes, _do it_,” Crowley confirms, without hesitation, already grinding down against the tease of pressure.

“_Oh,_” Aziraphale sighs, breath hot against Crowley’s bare shoulder, “you’re so beautiful, my dear,” and Aziraphale’s voice sounds so sincere it makes Crowley want to give in to that gut instinct to turn into a snake and slither off beneath the wardrobe.

Instead he says, “shut up,” half-heartedly and bears down on the fingers Aziraphale is working into him. Crowley fucks himself up and down on Aziraphale’s fingers, his other hand still working Crowley’s cock. “I need _more_, Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice is embarrassingly wanton.

But Aziraphale’s cock twitches at it and Crowley groans in a satisfactory way. Aziraphale pulls his fingers out gently, his hands settling on Crowley’s hips, steadying him as Crowley guides Aziraphale’s slick cock to his hole.

Crowley lowers himself onto Aziraphale and his breath hitches at the girth of him. He moves slowly, sinking further and further down, until he’s settled against Aziraphale’s thighs, fleshy and soft where Crowley is all bone and sharp angles.

“Kiss me, Aziraphale,” Crowley asks, though it’s not so much a question. Aziraphale smiles so warmly at him Crowley’s heart does something complicated in his chest. It only gets worse (better) when Aziraphale’s lips meet his.

As a surprise to no one, Aziraphale’s lips are impossibly soft, and they open so easily for him when his fork tongued darts out to lick across them. Crowley hasn’t kissed that many people in his 6,000 years on Earth but he’s pretty sure Aziraphale is _good _at this. Crowley’s cock stiffens and he humps against Aziraphale’s stomach, his curves soft and perfectly catered to the way Crowley is rutting desperately against him as he starts to move.

Aziraphale’s hands help Crowley find a rhythm as Crowley’s own clutch Aziraphale’s shoulders, his jaw, his neck, to card through his curls as his pace grows harder and faster. Crowley is only vaguely aware of the embarrassing keening noises he’s making into Aziraphale’s mouth where they pant together as they move more frantically against one another.

“Oh, _Crowley,_” Aziraphale pulls back to look at him, sunglasses folded neatly with his clothes, and he feels suddenly so very very naked, “you gorgeous creature, you’re doing so good, my love,” Aziraphale’s arms wrap around him as Crowley whimpers desperately against him and comes hard between them, untouched, twitching violently, a guttural noise punching out of him at the force of it, wings manifesting themselves in a graceful arch behind him.

Aziraphale shouts out a loud groan and fucks deep into Crowley, his hips stuttering, hands holding Crowley as he grinds hard, spilling into him. “Fuck, Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice is as wrecked as he is, wrung out and spent, going limp in Aziraphale’s grip, boneless and serpentine.

Eventually, after a long drawn out moment, Crowley reluctantly pulls off Aziraphale’s spent prick and collapses on the bed next to him, both panting despite it unnecessary to take even the least labored of breaths. When he’s able Aziraphale manages to miracle them into a more decent state, clean and tucked beneath his comfortable sheets, wings tucked away.

_They smell like him_, Crowley notices, immediately.

“So?” Aziraphale starts, glancing over at Crowley’s profile beside him.

“So, what, angel?” Crowley asks, turning his head towards Aziraphale, noses almost brushing.

“How do I compare to your previous _lovers_,” Aziraphale finishes, unashamed and rather prim considering.

Crowley turned his head and laughs, “I can honestly say, you’re the best I’ve ever had Aziraphale.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale raises himself up slightly to grin properly at him.

“But considering you have no competition, you were a real shoe-in,” Crowley says, turning to look at him. Crowley feels his face heat under the confession. He’s not sure why. Probably the way Aziraphale’s brows draw together in confusion before smoothing into dawning realization at the implication until finally a look of horror.

“What do you mean, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks.

“I mean you popped my cherry,” Crowley tells him, “stamped my V card—"

“Okay!” Aziraphale cuts him off.

“—I’ve been ‘deflowered’,” Crowley finishes with a smirk.

“You mean, _never_? With anyone? But me?” Aziraphale balks at Crowley’s slow and deliberate nod of affirmation. “Well, why didn’t you say anything Anthony J. Crowley!” Aziraphale sits up and Crowley blinks at him with a face.

“I didn’t think it was _relevant_,” Crowey protests. “Why? Was it bad?”

“Dear lord, _no_,” Aziraphale shakes his head adamantly, “you were _wonderful_, Crowley,” Aziraphale assures him, flushed down his chest, bared now. Crowley’s gaze lingers there for a moment.

“Then what’s the problem” Crowley asks.

“Well this was positively _lewd_,” Aziraphale frets, practically pouting. “Complete debauchery! Your first time should have had _romancing _and—and—_wine _and—” Crowley is afraid Aziraphale is about to find out if angels can hyperventilate.

“Calm down, Aziraphale,” Crowley sighs, grabbing him around the biceps. “You are the first person, in my 6,000 years of being on this planet that I’ve ever even _wanted _to…” he waves a hand between them.

Aziraphale flushes a deeper shade of pink but he drops back against the pillows.

“Besides we’ve been romancing for at least 5,000 of those,” Crowley points out. Aziraphale doesn’t actually argue, just lets Crowley scooch over, and drape himself across Aziraphale’s warm, naked body.

“Besides the debauchery was sort of part of the appeal, Aziraphale,” Crowley points out.

“Oh, I—well…” Aziraphale clears his throat looking up at the ceiling with a determinedly neutral expression on his face.

“You going to pretend like you don’t agree?” Crowley asks, _drawls_, lifting himself up to look at Aziraphale properly. It feels very much like _old old _times. But this time Aziraphale’s façade cracks and he grins at Crowley in the way that made Crowley infatuated with him in the first place. A little sheepish but mostly smug and downright _flirtatious_.

“Perhaps, we should try it again, and I can decide,” Aziraphale suggests.

“You’re positively _wicked, _angel,” Crowley tells him, kissing him deeply.


End file.
